


The Long Way Home

by hlee0890



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Young Love, anne doesn't know her worth, bash ships it, boys don't understand their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 08:11:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16615196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlee0890/pseuds/hlee0890
Summary: On the way home from school, Gilbert notices strange noises coming from the bridge and goes to investigate. What he finds is enough to make his blood run cold.





	The Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a story for this fandom, or for this site! After reading through every Anne with an E piece on this site (I mean that literally), I knew I needed more. So I just decided to give it my best shot. Hope you enjoy!

Gilbert Blythe does not think a lot about Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Not at all.

In fact, he’s gotten rather good at training his thoughts in other directions on occasion when they threaten to sway toward the enigmatic red head. Doing so became a necessary exercise once he learned how distractingly undefinable his feelings in regard to Avonlea’s newest resident were. Since their earliest encounter in the fog-layered woods, Anne was constantly acting in ways he least expected. From that moment on, Gilbert’s own responses repeatedly surprised him just the same.

He was never one hurting for friends. He prided himself on his agreeable nature and ease at engaging with others both his age and older – a trait he’d inherited from his late father, who was well-liked by all who knew him. Also like his father, Gilbert was clever and possessed a strong work ethic, as well as ambitions that pulled him beyond the small farming community in Prince Edward Island. Despite personal set backs which included the loss of his beloved father, Gilbert knew he had a grand life ahead of him.

He had enough with which to be content, and yet he had yet to earn Anne’s friendship.

Although they had indeed come a long way since the unfortunate slate incident in class, there was still much progress to be had. Anyone else would have abandoned the effort by now, he realized, but he remained steadfast in his goal all the same. Of course, he was now taking a much more subtle approach to get her attention these days, having learned his lesson after feeling her wrath in the force of a slate across his head.

Gilbert’s hand unconsciously rubbed at the spot where she’d struck him as his eyes drifted toward Anne’s vacant seat in the classroom, smiling at the memory just as he did then almost two years prior. Over the past few months, he had been arriving at school much earlier than the others in an effort to study without distraction, but he was having difficulty focusing lately anyway. And it wasn’t exactly a mystery as to why.

For though Gilbert did not think a lot about Anne-Shirley Cuthbert, it had never required very much to steal the entirety of his focus.

And though he kept her barred from the forefront of his mind, she was never very far from his thoughts. Along the way, it had become an almost instinctual awareness of her very presence; even when in separate groups or activities, Gilbert was conscious of her every move as if she were an extension of himself. Which was rather disconcerting given how unaware she seemed to be of him. In fact, Anne barely paid him any mind whatsoever, except on occasion when their academic rivalry was at play. Because of this, Gilbert often poured more effort than was necessary in attempting to best her in class. Admittedly, he got more satisfaction than he ought to in those moments when her fiery temper got the better of her and was focused on him. In those rare instances he felt as if he were getting a glimpse into the side of Anne that she so often shielded from view. The part of her that stemmed from having to fight for everything that she had, earn every good mark; the part of her that was desperate to prove herself.

What she couldn’t know, however, was that she had no need to prove anything, at least not to him, as she had already done so long ago.

Gilbert knew he could never hope to see the day when she’d open up to him, but he had learned so much about her character already just by studying her from afar and observing her interactions around Avonlea. While he had initially been miffed by her lack of gratitude in the woods after circumventing Billy’s cruelty, he soon discovered how important it was to her to not give the appearance of needing anyone’s help. And she proved this to be true in the weeks that followed, such as bravely entering a burning home to slow down the fire, and again the next day when standing up to Billy’s taunts as they worked on the Gillis’ damaged estate. So impressed was he in that moment that Gilbert could scarcely think of a way to come to her defense as he made his way down the latter to join Anne and Ruby on the ground, which he would like to have done despite it’s being wholly unnecessary. He only wanted her to know that she had at least one person on her side, but he failed to find a way to express this on that day or any day since.

Sighing, Gilbert set his textbook aside and stood to make his way toward the window, staring through the frosted glass as the memory of his fumbled greeting at the Gillis’ house triggered fresh embarrassment. He hadn’t the chance to praise her for her heroic efforts during the fire like he’d wanted before she ushered Ruby away. He had continued watching them for several moments until turning back to his task, marveling at Anne’s kindness toward the girl who had all but panicked at the idea of boarding with her for the next few days.

“I’m sure no one will think we’re friends,” she reassured Ruby, comforting her despite the insulting objection. Gilbert was standing just within earshot during the exchange and had whipped his head in her direction upon hearing her response. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there studying her before she turned around to meet his eyes. He should have been embarrassed at being caught in the act of staring, but something in her thoughtful expression kept him from diverting his eyes. For one moment – brief but poignant – they connected on a new level that both terrified and thrilled him. When finally he nodded, the gesture broke the connection and she blinked before dropping her head.

He vowed then and there that someday she would not shy away from his attention.

Indeed she had no need of his help or any other’s; were there dragons that needed slaying, Anne would fearlessly face them on her own. Knowing this, however, made Gilbert no less inclined to defend her when he could. Of course, he could never let her know when he did so as she would not take too kindly to his support.

“And if you ever hassle Anne again, you’ll regret it.”

He hadn’t forgotten the warning delivered to Billy and his goons that afternoon long ago, and he could only hope that they remembered it just as well. While he couldn’t defend her in class or with her knowledge, Gilbert was prepared to make good on his threat should the occasion arise. There was just something about her neither wanting or needing his aid that made him all the more willing to offer it.

Anne would never depend on anyone for anything, but she should still know that she could all the same. Unfortunately for him, she had no interest in accepting his support any time soon.

The door opened and Gilbert jolted away from the window as the first pair of students arrived, pulling him out of his reverie. Rubbing the back of his neck, he made his way back to this seat, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to the arrival of one classmate in particular.

 

~~

 

When Miss Stacey dismissed the class hours later, Gilbert closed his book with a sigh of relief. The day had been particularly long as several classmates were out with a fever, Diana Barry included. The absence of her bosom friend, as she called it, put Anne out of spirits the entire day. Any attempts to engage her had failed, disappointing both Gilbert and Miss Stacey alike. Before he could ask after Diana’s condition, Anne flew out of the room with haste, no doubt heading toward the Barry’s.

Gilbert’s disappointment did not last long though, understanding that it was Diana who gave Anne the most comfort, and knowing that a meal prepared by Bash and Mary awaited him at home. He smiled in anticipation as the rest of the class filed out and lingered after them to help tidy the room. Since Miss Stacy was going out of her way to tutor him outside of school hours, it was the least he could do in return. Gathering his things, he bid the teacher farewell and stepped out into the brisk air. They would likely have the season’s first freeze that night, so he and Bash would have their work cut out for them that evening. He didn’t dread the farm chores as once he did, having come to appreciate the work now that he shared partnership with a man he considered a brother.

With his thoughts occupied by the fortune he’d found in his new family, Gilbert did not immediately notice the strange noises coming from the creek running parallel to his path home. But as he neared the fork in the trail ahead, he paused as the barking sounds grew clearer and more ominous. Ominous because it was not coming from any animal, but was distinctly human. Craning his head toward the sounds, Gilbert cast one final look in the direction leading home before heading down the opposite path, his gut twisting as laughter echoed through the trees. He increased his pace and just before the narrow bridge came into view he heard a splash, causing his steps to falter.

A second later, he saw a trio of boys race toward the tree line on the other side of the creek and out of view, but not before he recognized Billy Andrews as being one of them. Assuming he’d caught them in an act of vandalism or animal cruelty, Gilbert advanced toward the bridge to investigate. His blood ran cold when he heard more splashing in the creek below. Dropping his books to the ground, he sprinted to rest of the way down to the creek bed instead of toward the bridge. The last image he registered before charging into the creek was a mop of red hair dipping beneath the surface of the dark water.

The frigid cold assaulted his senses, taking his breath away like a sack of grain landing on his chest. He had studied enough medical journals to know it was adrenaline fueling the actions against his own survival instincts. As long as his heart continued its furious beating he could focus on getting to her in time. Taking a deep breath, he dove into the water’s depths where he’d seen her last and prayed for a Divine Hand to guide him where his vision could not.

He hadn’t the chance to panic or worry about finding that which he sought, his hands connecting with her shoulders a second later. Gripping her dress, he pulled them both to the surface, not taking a breath until he heard her coughing up water first.

“I got you. You’re okay.” He repeated the words three times before they reached the water’s edge. She held on to the arm looped around her torso in a vice-like grip. As soon as he could safely stand again, he hauled her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way out of the water, not stopping until he had reached the gravel path.

Gilbert hadn’t yet registered the cold; more acutely aware was he of the tremors coursing through the frail body in his arms. Anne was still clinging to him as he knelt to the ground and began rubbing his hands over her arms to try and create some warmth.

“You’re okay. I got you,” he said again as she whimpered through chattering teeth.

“G-Gil...cold..”

Anne couldn’t say more than this, but it was quite enough. She was at risk of hypothermia if he didn’t act quickly. Gilbert cast his eyes down either side of the path, calculating distances in his head before reaching a decision. He stood again, making sure of his hold under her legs and back, and took off in the direction of his farm.

He felt like he’d been running for hours, the bitter cold seeping into this limbs as Anne’s thin frame became heaver with each new step. He stumbled twice before reaching the farm gate; the third time he fell just a hundred yards from the house and when he made to stand again, he cried out in pain as his body refused to comply. Crumpling to his knees, Gilbert buried his face into Anne’s ice-cold neck and felt tears prickle down his cheeks. She had become too still.

“BASH! MARY!”

He surprised himself with the strength left in his voice and lifted his head to shout again. The door opened then and he fell back once seeing Bash standing in its frame. He made it to them in seconds.

“Blythe! What on earth have you gotten yourself into, man?” Bash demanded as he extricated Anne out of Gilbert’s tight hold.

“Get her by the fire,” Gil ordered, rolling to the side to lay flat on his back. “Tell Mary to get her dry quickly. Go!” He shouted the last word upon seeing the indecision in Bash’s expression, not wanting to leave him there. “I’ll be right behind you.” But even as he said this, he wasn’t quite certain he could move any further.

Gilbert closed his eyes once Bash lifted Anne into his arms and ran toward the house. He was drifting in and out of consciousness when he felt the ground vanish beneath him. Not too long after he awoke again and wished he hadn’t, as his entire body ached something fierce. Aware of hands removing his soaked clothing, he tried to help but his limbs felt like foreign objects weighted against him. Soon he was stripped naked and wrapped in a wool blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace. Bash sat him up and placed a mug of hot tea in his hands, keeping a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder to steady him.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, Blythe. My heart is still not returned to normal.”

Gil tried to stay his shaking hands in order to drink. “Sorry,” he muttered, teeth chattering. Scanning the empty room, he added, “Anne?”

“Mary’s tending to her in the other room. Didn’t think she’d take too kindly to you seeing her in a state of undress when she wakes.”

“She’s still unconscious?” Gilbert sat up straighter, trying to peer into the other room.

“Calm yourself, man,” Bash admonished and pressed his shoulders down with a firm, yet gentle hand. “She’s dry now and warm by the fire. And she’s breathing still, thanks to you. You can do no more for your Anne that you haven’ already done.”

Gilbert ducked his head, letting the steam from the mug warm his face as tears threatened to fall.

“Mind telling me what the hell happened that led the two of you soaked to the bone?”

“I heard sounds from the bridge,” Gilbert told him and swallowed. “By the time I got there she was already under.” He shivered but not from the cold, the image of her head dipping beneath the surface sure to haunt him forever.

“She fell?”

Gilbert lifted his head, his grip on the mug tightening as he fixed on a smoldering log in the fireplace. “She wasn’t alone. I saw a group of boys running into the trees when I got to the bridge.” Bash’s hand clenched on his shoulder.

“Are you saying what is it I think you’re sayin’? Because if it is, choose your next words careful.” There was an edge to Bash’s voice that Gilbert had never before heard in his friend but that he understood all too well. He too felt a rage burning inside him, a hatred that didn’t hold a candle to the heat from the flames beside him. He hadn’t known Bash to be a violet man, nor had he ever witnessed him given to anger in their many months at sea or thereafter, but he recognized the layered threat behind his words. If he asked it of him, Bash would no doubt follow Gil to exact revenge on those who dared to harm Anne. While he’d only known her for a short time, it hadn’t taken long for Bash and Mary to grow fond of the oddly charming girl. Not to mention their shared belief that Gilbert’s fondness was indicative of deeper feelings, and as such had taken to Anne almost immediately.

But while he appreciated Bash’s loyalty, this was not his fight. Gilbert couldn’t risk his family’s safety and good-standing in the community by letting him respond in any way against Anne’s attackers. It wouldn’t matter the cause or justification; Bash was a colored man living amongst predominately uncultured whites. With this in mind, Gilbert pursed his lips and offered no response. A pregnant pause lapsed between them until Bash shuffled to sit in from of him. The fire cast eerie shadows over his already dangerous expression.

“Be straight with me, Blythe. Was your girl pushed?” When Gilbert diverted his gaze to the fire once more, Bash lowered his voice to try again. “Talk to me, brother.”

Hanging his head, Gilbert let out a sigh. “Let’s just say I don’t think Anne decided to go for a swim in the middle of November. From what I gathered, she doesn’t even know how,” he added darkly. Bash cursed under his breath. “I didn’t actually see anything happen though.”

“Maybe not, but you told me before about Anne’s being a target in school, did you not?”

Gilbert nodded. It made him sick to see how cruelly she was treated by the bullies in class, even worse that he was unable to prevent it. How anyone could treat such a kind person that way was beyond him, but she’d been the focus of the worst of Avonlea’s youth from the very start.

“Something must be done,” Bash decided.

“Agreed.”

“Then we’ll teach those boys a lesson as soon as you are fit to stand again.”

Gilbert shook his head. “You’ll have no part in this, Bash. I warned him about messing with Anne, and promised he’d regret it if he didn’t. This is on me.”

“I’ll not have you dueling on your own when you might be outnumbered. If it’s a fight you seek, so be it, but it won’t happen without me,” Bash argued. “There’s other ways to exact your revenge though.”

“Such as?”

“Justice. Is there not peace officers or law in Avonlea?”

Gilbert scoffed. “These boys’ families are upstanding citizens in the province. It’ll be their word against Anne’s – an orphan with a colorful track record in town. Even if she agreed to name her attackers, no one will believe her.”

“They might if you stand by her story.”

“I’m an orphan now too in their eyes,” Gilbert told him. “An orphan who put a foreigner on the deed to his family’s farm.” He frowned apologetically at him. “I didn’t gain any favor in doing so, as you well know. I can’t count on any form of justice as defined by the good people of Avonlea.”

Bash followed his line of sight to the fireplace, any further arguments silenced by the unfortunate truth in his words. The deep-seeded prejudices in their community were still a long way from being overcome, regardless of how falsely polite the treated outsiders or newcomers in public. Billy Andrews might be a deplorable and wicked wretch, but at least he didn’t hid his true nature behind pretense. Gilbert knew all about the community’s initial shunning of the Cuthbert’s charge when first she moved to Avonlea, just as he knew of the secret petition to seize the property from Gilbert and Bash’s ownership. He honored his father’s legacy by preserving his rights to the farm, but there were times he resented such familial obligation. There were times he regretted his decision to ever return.

But had he not, who knows what would’ve become of the land his father poured his blood, sweat and tears into. And what might have happened had he not been there to see Anne sink into the icy creek. He literally shuddered at the thought and pulled the blanket tighter against him, just before releasing it altogether at the sound of the door opening across the room. He started to stand at the sight of Mary approaching, but remembered his undressed state and waited for her to join them by the fire.

Her face was grim as she took a seat in the chair behind Bash, placing the candelabra on the table before meeting Gilbert’s eyes. “She has yet to wake, but the tremors have let up and her breathing is steady,” she began by answered his unvoiced question. “She’s been murmuring in her sleep though. She spoke your name,” she told him. Gilbert swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to speak. “How are you feeling, Gilbert?”

“I’m fine. Just a little drained, is all.”

“That’s to be expected. You showed a great deal of courage today.”

He shrugged. “Just in the right place at the right time… or not, I guess. I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“It won’t do to think like that, Gilbert. Anne owes you her life.”

“She’s not out of the woods yet. I’m worried she’ll go into hypothermia. I need to get the doctor to look her over. The Cuthberts!” Wrapping the blanket around himself, he stood, admonishing himself for not thinking of them sooner. “They’ll be wondering what’s keeping her.”

A wave of dizziness overtook him and he swayed on his feet. Mary and Bash were both at his side in an instant, ushering him toward the couch.

“Settle down. I’ll head to Green Gables right away,” Bash assured him.

“I think we got her dry and warm enough in time to not fear the worst,” Mary said. “But I can go into town and fetch the doctor just in case.”

“Bash, have Mr. Cuthbert send their hand, Jerry, instead. Mary shouldn’t go into town alone in this cold.” He didn’t add that the doctor may not be as welcoming to Mary’s appearance on his doorstep as he would Jerry, but their expressions showed understanding all the same.

“It’s going to be all right, Gilbert. You just rest up now, you hear?”

He acknowledged Mary’s urging with a stiff nod, but couldn’t bring himself to share her faith. Bash kissed his new bride goodbye and went to the closet to put on his coat and hat.

“Bash… Thank you,” he told him as he headed out the door.

“We’ll get your Anne taken care of, Blythe. You can be sure of that.” Gil wasn’t sure if he was referring to her health or avenging her attack, but he nodded just the same. Once he and Mary were left alone, she retrieved the candle and offered it to him.

“Go get yourself into some dry clothes now. I’m sure you’ll want to be there when Anne wakes.”

He complied and numbly made his way up the stairs, dressing in record time. When he returned to the parlor, he found the door to his father’s old room open and peeked inside. Mary was perched on the edge of the bed, dabbing a warm cloth on Anne’s forehead with one hand and gestured him inside with the other. He was relieved to see that Mary had dressed Anne in one of her night dresses, but felt he was invading her privacy anyway just by being there in her unconscious state. He delayed looking her over fully until he reached the other side of the bed, lingering a step back from the mattress as he took in Anne’s still form.

Her lips were a pale purple, her skin likewise ashen. The vibrant red of her hair was a shade darker in its damp state and fell over the pillow in a halo around her face. It seemed all the life and vivacity had been drained from her appearance, and it pained him to see her like that.

“She’ll be okay, Gilbert.”

He fell back into the seat beside the bed – the same one he used to occupy when keeping vigil over his dying father. The similarities were unsettling, to say the least.

“Why hasn’t she woken?”

“I don’t know,” Mary answered. “Just give it time. She’ll be talking your ear off soon enough.”

His answering smile was fleeting. Before long he felt his eyes grow heavy and dozed off. He couldn’t say for certain how long his fitful sleep lasted, but it wasn’t nearly deep enough to not be roused by the sound of Anne’s whimpering. He opened his eyes just when her unintelligible murmurs turned into full shouting. Hovering over her shaking form, he gripped her forearms to stop them from thrashing out against an imaginary assailant.

“Gilbert!” He started at the cry of his name on her lips and glanced around the room for Mary but found he was alone.

“Shh. Anne, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Her eyelids fluttered open – blinking again and again until fixing on the ceiling above her. At last she focused and locked eyes with him, her expression panicked as her bright blue eyes widened in recognition. “Gil… Gilbert?” she choked out, and he very nearly laughed in relief. That was until he became aware of his hands holding her arms at either side, and his knee pressing into the mattress and against her hip bone. She cut her eyes down to where they touched, noticing their improper proximity at the same time as he and showing a tinge of pink in her cheeks. Gilbert released his hold and scooted away in an abrupt motion as if burned by the contact. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed but also grateful for the return of color to her face.

“Gilbert Blythe, where am I?”

This time he did laugh, letting the relief wash over him and provide a balm to his wearied spirit. Anne watched him in confusion, brows furrowing as he repositioned himself in a more comfortable position at the edge of the bed.

“Sorry. It’s just really good to hear your voice,” he told her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You’re at my house. But don’t worry, Bash should be back with the Cuthberts soon.”

Her eyes passed over the shadowy room and fixed on a spot in the corner. Gilbert followed her gaze to the dress drying in front of the fireplace. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so. How long have I been here?”

“Actually, I’m not entirely sure. I’d guess a couple hours now. How are you feeling?” He took a risk and leaned forward to touch her forehead with the back of his hand, satisfied with her normal temperature. Anne stilled under his touch.

“I… I am not entirely sure of that either,” she stuttered and took a shaky breath when he removed his hand. “At least, the words are escaping me at the moment, which is an oddity to be sure. There must be some way to describe this feeling, but I can’t find them. Do you think I am suffering from some kind of amnesia?”

Gilbert smiled sympathetically. “I don’t think so. I’m sure you’ll think of the words soon. I sent for the doctor to check on you just in case.” He paused, dreading his next question. “Anne, were you hurt in any other way before falling?” He knew she’d been pushed, she needn’t confirm that, but if Billy had harmed her physically beforehand then he needed to know, even if he didn’t really want to know.

“No. Hitting the water took the breath out of me, but I suppose the cold would be reason for that.” The silence stretched between them as Gilbert searched her face for unspoken answers. The intensity of his inspection must have been too much, for she eventually diverted her eyes across the room. “You jumped in after me.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway. “Thank you’ does not seem fit enough to express my gratitude. They are such shallow, unsatisfying words, don’t you think?”

“They’ll do just fine, but you don’t need to thank me,” he assured her. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t there sooner to prevent it altogether.” Anne studied him thoughtfully and this time he shied away from her gaze, dropping his eyes to the quilt.

“Gilbert Blythe.” She waited until he looked up again. “You saved my life. I find myself eternally indebted to you.” He released a breath, chuckling nervously though she remained quite serious. “I should like to have been able to rescue myself, of course, such as the time the grifters left me tied up, but I suppose all the cleverness in the world cannot help when one doesn’t know how to swim,” she said with disdain. “Rest assured, I am quite resolute in my decision to fix that oversight as soon as I’m able. Or at least as soon as it’s a bit warmer outside.”

Gilbert frowned, distracted by one part in her speech in particular. “The grifters tied you up?” He hadn’t been privy to that information before then.

“Thrilling, isn’t it? Mind you, it wasn’t for very long. Marilla and I kept our wits about us and managed to get to a place where we could alert Matthew. I suppose I’m fortunate they didn’t try to silence me by any other means. They didn’t expect me of all people to uncover their dastardly ways. You missed all the excitement, Gilbert!” She rambled on, describing at length the gold fiasco and the grifters’ guise as boarders at Green Gables. She told him that she’d begun to suspect their motives weren’t as innocent as they would have everyone believe not long after sending her letter to Gilbert, and apologized for not sending a retraction before his return, which would have included a correction to his spelling of ‘indefinitely.’ He couldn’t help but smiling at this, especially when hearing of Diana’s suspicion that it’d been deliberate.

“I wish I could say it was,” he replied. “But I’m afraid I must own up to the error.” Shaking his head, he processed the new information from his time away. “I guess I did miss a lot in my absence. I hate that one of them got away.”

“Yes, it’s regrettable to be sure. The town suffered a great deal from the loss of money.”

“I don’t care about the money. I hate that they weren’t punished for harming you and Marilla.”

She blinked, cheeks turning pink again as she seemed to struggle with a response. “Well, that was the least of their offenses.”

“I’ll have to disagree. No man should ever put his hands on a lady like that. It enrages me to even think of it.”

He was referring to more recent events too and she must’ve been thinking along the same lines for her eyes took a far off look as her forehead wrinkled. “Not all men have a gentlemanly nature like you do, Gilbert.”

“It’s not even about being a gentleman; it’s human decency,” he argued, an edge creeping into his voice.

Anne glanced away again, her expression unreadable as she chewed on her lower lip. Gilbert was distracted by the sight for a moment, staring at her mouth for longer than what would be considered proper, telling himself that it was only because he was glad to see her lips had resumed their natural shade of pink again. In fact, her coloring was almost healthy once more. Her cheeks were still pale but no more than usual, skin warmed by the fire and sprinkled with her signature clustering of freckles. She looked like an angel in the muted lamplight, the flames across the room reflecting against her auburn hair, appearing to be its own heat source. As such, Gilbert felt a low burn building inside of him. It was a strange sensation, new but also familiar. He likened it to the feeling he had standing at the rail aboard the steamer – with nothing but the endless horizon in front of him, he felt as if he could stare into the distance forever and never grow tired of the view.

Sitting next to Anne and all her ethereal beauty, he had a similar awe-struck response. He could never grow tired of this view.

“I don’t think people like Billy Andrews believe they’re abandoning human decency – as you say – when he treats me the way he does. I am less than human in his eyes – a rabid dog, trash, orphan,” she spoke the last word like a curse, her expression pinching with disgust. “Of course, it’s narrow-minded and lacks any imagination, but some labels just stick, I suppose.” There was no malice or indignation in her words, though Gilbert felt plenty of them both for her. He was surprised by the hatred burning inside him and his hands clenched into fists beside him, aching to use them against anyone who dared make her feel less than she is.

“Anne, listen to me,” he commanded. When she didn’t immediately look at him, he reached out and touched her chin, turning her face toward him. There were unshed tears in her eyes and he had to swallow before attempting to speak. “Billy Andrews is the real trash. He’s a disgusting excuse for a human being and always has been. It wasn’t triggered by your arrival.”

She flashed him a watery smile. “Well you can’t deny that I have a tendency to bring out the worst in people. I seem to be a magnet for trouble.”

“Life in Avonlea has definitely been made more colorful since you moved here, Anne Shirley; I’ll grant you that.” He took another risk and laid his hand atop hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before replacing it at his side. She stared at the place where his hand had been for a long moment before folding her arms across her middle.

“I love it here. No matter what has happened, this place has become a home beyond my wildest fantasies of before. Not even my scope of the imagination could have conjured up a better ideal. And Billy Andrews is practically a teddy bear compared to the manner of people I encountered in previous years. I sometimes can scarcely believe my good fortune!”

Gilbert gaped at her, failing to conceal his utter astonishment. Less than two hours before she had been at the brink of death and here she sat, counting her blessings. She noticed his strange reaction and narrowed her eyes before placing a hand on his knee.

“Gilbert, what is it? Something has troubled you.” Her voice was laced with concern, which only angered him all the more. She was concerned for him?

“What’s troubling me?” he repeated bitingly. As if stung, Anne quickly removed her hand. “You could have died, Anne. Bad as you may have had it before, I’m sure that one ever tried to kill you!”

She flinched at the harshness in his tone and ducked her chin. “They weren’t trying to kill me, Gilbert. It’s my own fault for having never taken the time to become a proper swimmer.”

Gilbert scoffed. “They pushed you over the bridge and left you there to drown.”

“I never said I was pushed-”

“You didn’t have to!” he shouted. “I saw enough to put the pieces together and, one way or another, Billy will have to answer to this.”

Anne’s head snapped to attention before straightening to a sitting position, becoming eye level to focus her fiery glare on him. “You weren’t there and I will not allow you to speak for me, Gilbert Blythe! I’ll tell everyone that I fell and no one will question it.”

“But why?” He closed his eyes as the frustration brought upon a sudden headache. “Why would you lie to protect someone who sought to hurt you?” Opening his eyes, he leaned forward until their faces were inches apart.

“I won’t be painted the trouble-making liar again, that’s why. And it’s my choice!”

His expression softened with sympathy but not quite understanding. “Things are different now though, Anne. You’ve proven yourself here.”

She shut her eyes from him and shook her head. “Please just let it go.”

It wasn’t easy for Gilbert, torn between giving her what she wanted and wanting to do the exact opposite. Before then, he didn’t think there was much that he could deny her, but this was asking more from him than he’d ever given.

“Anne,” he breathed. “I… I’m not sure that I can.”

She opened her eyes once more and searched his face for a prolonged moment. Seeing the conflicting pain behind his eyes, she eventually sighed and fell back against the pillows. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Gilbert. I’m perfectly capable of handling things myself. Except in situations where water is involved… I give you permission to intervene should that occasion arise again.”

He cast her a sidelong look to show that he was not amused.

“Besides, had I been pushed - and I’m not saying that is what happened, but for arguments sake I’ll indulge this hypothetical scenario,” she continued. “I must at least take some part of the responsibility for the turn of events.”

He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“If Billy pushed me, it would have probably been because I shoved him first.”

“And why would you do that?”

She focused on the quilt across her lap, tracing the patterns with her fingers. “He provoked me.”

“How so?”

Her face pinched in discomfort. “Anne?” he pressed.

“He made an accusation that I could not ignore. I can tolerate my fair share of cutting remarks, but he went too far, you see, and once he got a reaction out of me, he proceeded to push and push until I broke,” she explained in one breath. “I am not proud of my weakness, however I cannot bring myself to regret responding to his insufferable cruelty.”

His voice softened to ask what it was that Billy said to earn such a reaction out of her. Gilbert admired her strength of character while wishing she could have simply walked away at the same time. “It can’t have be anything you hadn’t heard before,” he reasoned.

“His tactics have evolved, I’ve got to hand it to him. He knows I am unbothered by his name calling and tired insults.”

“So he insulted someone else then,” he guessed. Her answering frown serviced as confirmation. “Did he say something about Cole? Or Diana?

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Anne, please tell me. I want to understand.”

“You don’t get it, Gilbert. I don’t wish to involve you in this matter any further. Please don’t make me repeat such awful things.”

“I’m already involved,” he reminded her. “And if you don’t want me to answer to Billy’s assault in kind, I won’t. I still need to know what it was that upset you so.”

“Swear it,” she said.

“What?”

Anne pushed herself up and held out her pinky finger. “Swear on your life that you will not respond in any way to the people involved in the incident nor will you ever speak of it again, under pain of death, for as long as you should live.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gilbert linked his finger with hers and angled himself closer to her. “On my honor, Milady.”

“Gilbert, I mean it.”

“As do I.”

She took a deep breath and lowered her hand, not breaking the connection of their fingers. “It was suggested that my filth had corrupted you so far as to ruin any respectability you once possessed. Consequentially, you can now only make ties with equally disreputable people. Of course, his word choice was far less flattering and only indicative of his pitiful lack of an intelligent vocabulary, but then again we knew that already. He truly is the most unimaginative creature I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

At some point while she spoke her hand had shifted against his so that their palms were then pressed together, and as she finished Gil’s fingers closed around hers in a tight grip. She squeezed his hand back, sensing his anger and offering a small gesture of support. He lowered his eyes to their joined hands.

“You see now why I didn’t wish to tell you,” Anne added in a whisper. “I knew it would only cause you undue pain. I’m so sorry, Gilbert.” Choking back a sob, she ducked her head again but couldn’t hide when a tear spilled over her face and landed on the quilt. With his free hand, he wiped away the moisture on her cheek. Anne closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But he said those things just to spite me! It’s one thing for him to speak ill of me, but to assault a friend’s character in order to get a rise out of me is reprehensible. And it’s not even remotely close to the truth!” she rushed to add. “No one really thinks that of you. I swear it! No one would even believe you were ever close enough to me that there’d be a risk of my tarnishing your reputation. If I thought for one second that I was damaging your good name by being on friendly terms with you then I would’ve done everything in my power to rectify the situation immediately!” Gilbert placed a hand on her shoulder to make her pause, for she’d been speaking so quickly that she forgot all about breathing. He took in a deep breath to encourage her to do the same; she followed suit until eventually relaxing under his hand. When she peered through her thick lashes to meet his eyes, Gilbert then had to remind himself to breathe.

“Are you all right?” she asked him cautiously.

He nodded. “Just processing. You?”

“Oh, I’m fine. But please, process away. Take your time.”

In truth, it would require much longer than the limited time they had left alone to fully process his feelings with regard to her words. He’d no doubt spend the next few weeks playing back the conversation and analyzing all the information given. He was justifiably angry, to be sure. Anne had spared him the details of Billy’s offenses but he could fill in the blanks well enough to inspire righteous indignation for the verbal attack on his family. He knew that Bash and Mary’s residency in Avonlea had sparked controversy, with most of the blame directed at Gilbert for his audacity to invite them into his father’s home. But the notion that Anne had somehow initiated his scandalous behavior was a previously unheard perspective – one that was as ridiculous as it was flattering. A laugh bubbled in his throat before he could stop it.

Anne’s mouth fell open. “I cannot imagine what could possibly be funny to you right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to control his amusement. “It’s just that, if what Billy said is true, then I should thank you for inspiring the best decision I ever made. By this reasoning, your influence led me to finding Bash and Mary, and for that I am forever in your debt, Anne Shirley.”

“Gilbert, be serious.”

“I am serious! What Billy said is absurd, but I should only hope to be so influenced by you.”

“You don’t mean that,” she argued.

“I do though.”

Gilbert knew her well enough to know that she had difficulty recognizing her value at times; it didn’t help that people like Billy and Josie Pye were constantly trying to tear her down. She was entirely self-sufficient, of that there could be no question, but he sometimes doubted that that also meant she liked herself as well. Anne was fiercely loyal and loved with abandon, however her actions led him to believe that she didn’t expect the same in return. He knew she loathed her red hair and freckled face, that her whimsical fantasies featured heroines wholly different than the person she was. What she failed to see, what she couldn’t imagine, was that her beauty was found in all the things that made her different – everything that set her apart.

No matter where she went, Anne stood out from all the rest.

“Thank you, Anne. For defending my honor against Billy. For standing up for Bash and Mary. I wish you hadn’t, but it still means a lot that you did.”

Biting her lip, she twirled a strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. “It was nothing.”

The sudden shyness that crept into her response would not do; Gilbert dipped his head to force her eyes on his. “It was not nothing. And I’ll not soon forget it.” Seconds passed locked in the connection of their eyes until he blinked and leaned back, fearing what it might reveal. There were a great many things he wanted her to know, layers of feeling that he wanted to peel back, but now was not the time. She wasn’t ready to hear such things, and until he fully understood them himself, he wasn’t ready to make any confession either.

“Would you do me another favor?” he asked, focusing on the stitch in his trousers.

“I suppose that would depend on the favor in question.”

“Of course.” He smiled, having expected nothing less. “If ever there should be a hint of damaging reputations caused by our… closeness, it would be my preference that you don’t try to ‘rectify’ it – as you put it,” he said, glancing up at her. “You don’t care what people think about you; why should I?”

The question was left hanging in the air for so long that Gilbert almost gave up on receiving an answer. He waited anyway, neither of them looking at the other as they both weighed the possible conclusions. Gilbert had a nervous notion that the trajectory of their almost friendship was to be determined by what happened next, but he had no other choice but to leave it up to her. He couldn’t force her to trust him, nor could he offer any argument to try and convince her to even like him. Either way, she’d already proven to care enough to stand up to three boys more than twice her size in his defense. And that wasn’t nothing. It might even be enough, should she choose to push him away then.

“You might think that now, Gilbert, but you can’t know what it’s really like,” she finally replied, voice burdened by a weight that no teenager should carry. “To know that rumors about you are constantly looming overhad, lingering in the back of the minds of even the politest of company. It’ll follow you wherever you go, your reputation preceding every arrival.  
“I do care what people think; I just have no power to change it. But it’s still in your power to preserve the good name passed down to you from your father. You should not risk that for anyone.”

Gilbert released the breath he’d been unconsciously holding and craned his neck to look behind him. Above the fireplace a picture of his father stood at the center of the mantle, his larger than life presence somehow captured in the still image.

“You’re right – I don’t know what it’s like to have to earn people’s respect, to fight to be accepted like you have,” he told her in barely a whisper. “But my father raised me to be my own man. He used to tell me to go wherever the spirit moved me, and I’ve learned that sometimes it means going against the grain. I don’t want to lose something of unknown value just so that I can keep the good opinions of others that I don’t even need.” He turned back to face her and found her eyes once again shining with moisture. To his surprise, she didn’t look away or otherwise attempt to conceal her emotion from him and, for some reason, that alone was enough to move him to emotion himself. He blinked away all evidence at once.

“I would very much like to gain your friendship, Anne. But if I can’t have that, I’ll settle for a new truce – one built on trust and understanding. I may not care what others think, but your opinion does matter to me.”

“Why?” she asked, the word catching in her throat.

“I don’t know. I guess because I know your conclusions are based on careful examination.” He paused to smile. “And because I had to work very hard just to get your attention.”

She playfully nudged him with her knee. “I still haven’t forgiven you for the whole “carrots” thing, you know.”

“I figured. But at least I made some kind of lasting impression. It’s my wish that years from now when served a bowl of vegetable stew, a lone carrot will rise to the surface and give you pause. I can be content in knowing that in that moment, you’ll be thinking of me.”

“Shame on you! Now I shall never enjoy a good steamed vegetable again!”

“At least not without me in mind,” he said with a wink.

He spoke teasingly, but his smile faded as the image of an older Anne came to his mind’s eye – a married woman in a seat at her family table, having a whole and complete life, a stranger occupying the seat next to her. Despite wanting that future for her, it pained him to imagine it. Where would Gilbert find himself in this distant future? Would thoughts of Anne be randomly triggered by some object of story? Would his own spouse be sitting near him when Anne entered his mind? Would he feel shame to be thinking of someone else in those moments? And if not, should he?

It would be much less troublesome if those memories were triggered in a shared moment with someone who understood. A new image came to mind: sitting at the dinner table surrounded by Bash and Mary, their children and Gilbert’s playing under feet, a carrot resting on the surface of his dinner. He scoops up the orange vegetable and holds it in front of him, locking eyes with the one sitting at his side. The rest of the party won’t understand the reason for their laughter, then again their shared smiles and silent conversations are rarely understood.

Gilbert shook himself out of the fantasy and focused on the present, where Anne was eyeing him with her mouth partly opened. “If it’s a lasting impression you desire, you ought not have chosen such a foul circumstance. You could’ve been remembered for much greater things.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Such as being the worthy opponent in school marks that I bested at great odds,” she mused with a wide smile. “I shall always look back on our rivalry with fondness.”

“Then it would be in my best interest to let you win. But I don’t know if I have it in me to lose.”

“You’re terrible, Gilbert Blythe.”

“And you, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, are remarkable. I won’t have to try very hard to remember you should ever our paths take us in separate directions.”

“It’s strange to think about, isn’t it? That someday we’ll look upon the people we are now as strangers to who we’ll someday be. Almost as if the phases of our lives feature new characters and fresh perspectives, an ever-evolving narrator in chapters making up the same story. It’s rather romantical, don’t you think?”

It wasn’t the word he would choose, Gilbert decided. In fact, he found the notion far less enchanting than she.

“I’m not sure I like the idea of becoming someone different than who I am now. Who’s to say we’ll even like the person we become?”

“Well I suppose that’s up to us,” Anne reasoned. “If we don’t like ourselves, we can always choose to be different.”

“Personally, I don’t think you should ever change. I’d be disappointed if you did,” Gilbert admitted.

Anne blushed. “I should like to keep some parts of myself in tact, but I’m counting on my hair changing tones in my adult life. Everything else I can live with.”

“You’ll forgive me for counting on the opposite outcome. I’m sort of partial to what you’ve got.”

“You shouldn’t tease me now, Gilbert. It’s bad manners. At least wait until I’m more myself so that I can respond effectively.”

“I’m not teasing you. If I were, I would’ve called you “Carrots,” but I didn’t, did I?”

“I wish I had a slate on me,” Anne muttered. Gilbert laughed out loud.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Gilbert began to feel his spirits lighten. There’d been no deep revelations in their conversation, but he had gained some insight all the same; enough to give him hope for the days ahead. He believed progress had been made. He could sense that Anne was starting to trust him, even if she was hesitant to completely give in to the idea. His eyes began to grow heavy again once this new peace fell over him. Anne lifted up and took one of the pillows from behind her before laying it at the edge of the bed near her feet. Gilbert narrowed his eyes at her as she laid back down.

“I want to close my eyes again for a little while,” she explained, settling into the pillows. “By the looks of you, it’s probably best that you do the same.”

He was too tired to consider the improper nature of the suggestion, and probably wouldn’t have tried to argue even if he had the energy. She closed her eyes and he laid back on his side, drawing his knees up to the edge of the bed but out of her way. He rested his head on the pillow next to her feet, laying on his right shoulder with his arm stretched out between their bodies. The call of sleep was tugging him under, but it wasn’t until he felt the pressure of Anne’s hand inside of his that he surrendered to its bidding.

~~ 

They were found just like that sometime later, laying in the bed with an appropriate amount of distance between their bodies, connected only by the entanglement of their hands. Mary led Matthew and Marilla inside the room with Bash trailing behind, and the four of them lingered not far from the open door, not wanting to disturb their much needed rest, but also slightly hesitant to intrude on such a peaceful image. Marilla was a little uncomfortable with the sight of Anne sharing a bed with a boy, but after hearing of Gilbert’s heroic actions in saving her, she knew she didn’t have much to worry about. She had a feeling that Gilbert only ever had Anne’s best interest in mind. Bash chuckled quietly from where he stood leaning against the door frame, drawing the attention of the others. He met each of their looks and shook his head with a wide grin.

“He is gone for that girl.”


End file.
